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My earliest memories are of an apartment near the U. City Loop, and of Kindergarten at Delmar Harvard School. Kids used a pedestrian tunnel under Delmar, that had a dank but fascinating smell. After heavy rains they blocked it off and a huge policeman in a shiny slicker stopped traffic for us. By first grade my family had moved to San Diego, where I lived in an old frame house overlooking a canyon with a distant view of the Pacific and a pair of orange trees outside the kitchen door. When I got my first pair of cowboy boots I slept in them, and I've been a cowboy ever since. To my parents, however, the California experiment did not fulfill the vision they had, and the following spring I washed up on the shores of 7112 Dartmouth, and Jackson Park School. |